Counting Down The Days
by countmeawake
Summary: It's been 3 years, 2 months and 6 days. 3 years, 2 months and 6 days since Derek left Beacon Hills.


It's been 3 years, 2 months and 6 days.

3 years, 2 months and 6 days since Derek left Beacon Hills. And he knows it's been 3 years, 2 months and 6 days since he left Beacon Hills because his brain won't let him forget. The crushing memories of nothing but death and despair have followed his sorry ass all around the country. He runs, but he's forgotten what for.

Well, he knows why he left. He knows he left because he needed to get away from the pain of seeing Isaac dead...no _mauled _on his front porch, a "don't fuck with me" gift from lovely Grandpa Argent. He remembers opening the door and seeing the poor broken body of his most vulnerable and innocent beta. He remembers grabbing his keys and, through a fog of tears, he remembers leaving in his Camaro. Leaving Beacon Hills and his past.

What was he thinking, living in that house that held so many memories? He was punishing himself for being alone all this time, he knows that. He was punishing himself for not being with Laura when she was killed. He was punishing himself for reasons that no one knew but himself. That's all he ever does.

For 3 years, 2 months and 6 days he's been with nothing but his thoughts. His thoughts of anger and regret, of sadness and longing for his Pack and for _comfort_. Even big bad werewolves like Derek needed someone to talk to every once in a while. So he settled for picking up easy women in bars and satisfying himself before moving on to the next town, choosing a new identity and crawling from bar to bar, drowning his sorrows in beer and sex and self loathing and pity.

This wasn't Derek. Derek was...Derek _has always _been a man who needs family. A man who seeks comfort in others because he can't seek comfort in himself. He can't see himself as a good person, but strangely, others can.

Others being Stiles.

_Fuck_ he thinks, one night in a cheap and crappy motel somewhere in a state he can't even remember, _fuck I miss him_. He doesn't only miss the way Stiles' cheeks flush red when he's embarrassed, or the way that stupid kid never shuts up talking once he gets going, or the way he absent mindedly runs his hand through his buzz cut when he's anxious, but he misses the way the kid kept him grounded, kept him hanging on to that one shred of human dignity left in Derek's broken and torn heart. And it's the memory of Stiles that had kept Derek from going completely insane.

It has been 3 years, 2 months and 2 days of Derek being on the run when he finally decides to go home. He's stuck in traffic somewhere in New York, a state he's been to three times since he's left Beacon Hills, left _home_. And he can't take it anymore. The pain of seeing Isaac's body on his porch had sent him into such a frenzy that he just upped and left, but the idea of not seeing his Pack again is enough to warrant him a conscious thought strong enough to decide that it is time to go home. He's sat in traffic and he looks to his right and he sees a baby crying in the Hyundai next to him and he starts thinking. What if Scott and Allison are still together? She'd be 20 right now, him 19. What about Jackson and Lydia? Would Stiles have a girlfriend?

His heart pangs for longing at that very thought so he shoves it to the back of his mind where all of his other broken and painful thoughts lie, locked up in a box in the corner of his mind as he mentally throws away the key.

He brings a hand up to wipe away sweat from his brow from the hot June weather and he decides to go home. Even if it's for a few days, he just needs to see how everyone is getting on. He can't be an alpha without a Pack and let's face it, for the past three and a half years he's been a pretty shitty alpha.

He's driving and driving and after six hours non-stop, he pulls up into a motel to rest his head for the night. Usually his dreams are awash with the regulars, Isaac's body crumpled and broken, unmoving. He dreams of Laura and her smile as she waits for Derek after school. He dreams of the smell of cinnamon from the buns his mother used to cook at the weekends, and he dreams of the pain where his mother would slap away his hand as he tried to steal a bite of them freshly cooked. The sadness fills his unconscious mind and he whimpers in his sleep. He knows when he wakes up that he thrashes in his slumber, the covers are a mess and sometimes he even ends up on the floor in a cold sweat.

But tonight is the first night where he doesn't thrash. For the first time in 3 years, 2 months and 2 days, he's had a dreamless sleep. A sleep where he wakes up and feels refreshed, revitalized, ready to drive and _go home_. After a breakfast of nothing but an apple, he sets off again.

He remembers the first time he kissed Stiles.

Well...he remembers the first time _Stiles _kissed _him_. The surprising softness of his lips contrasting the way Stiles just well..._threw himself _atop Derek one night after a Pack meeting. There were pizza boxes _everywhere _and Derek remembers sighing in exasperation and throwing his hands in the air at his Pack who just made excuses and left.

"I'll help," Stiles says and before Derek can retort, Stiles is already piling one pizza box on top of the other and taking them out to the kitchen to put in the trash. Derek picks up the glasses and follows him out to the kitchen where Stiles is pacing back and forth, hands in pockets and looking...staring at the floor.

"You know," Stiles begins, as Derek puts the glasses in the sink, "we've had this thing going on for a while now and I was just wondering what this thing was between us. Because we flirt and you do that thing where you shove me up against walls and threaten me with your words but I know you don't mean it and I see the way you look at me and I look at you the same way and..."

"Stiles," Derek says, stepping closer to the boy, "shut up."

"See you're doing it again! You're deflecting and you'll end up changing the subject and I am a teenage boy Derek I have needs."

And then he just flings himself at Derek as their lips touch and Derek responds almost immediately with no thought whatsoever, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him in close as if he never wants to let go again. He moans and melts into Stiles' mouth as Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and pulls him in closer, as if he wants them to merge into one, every inch of his flesh wanting to touch Derek's and Derek lets him be forceful because it's just what he wants from Stiles.

Because of _course_ he felt the same way. Of course he'd been looking at Stiles in a different light ever since he became a part of the Pack. Of course he'd longed for his lips to touch his. He'd longed and longed but Derek had been so alone for such a while he'd forgotten what compassion and comfort had felt like until Stiles was kissing him and holding him and letting him in.

It was a pity, a _dreadful _pity that four days after their kiss, Derek left.

So here he is, in his car now and he's wondering what to say to Stiles. "Hey, how you doing? Sorry I've been gone for three years...needed to do some thinking."

He knows that's not going to cut it. He knows that Stiles is never going to forgive him for leaving. But Derek had to get away. He had so many thoughts swimming in his mind that he just picked one at random and he followed it. And that thought was _leave. Don't hurt them anymore. It's your fault Isaac is dead and it will be your fault if another one of them dies. Their blood will be on your hands just like Isaac's._

So he left. And now he's going home. Because he's selfish and regardless of whether they get hurt again, he has to see the people who gave him a shred of hope that hey, life can be okay after all.

It's been 3 years, 2 months and 4 days and Derek is nearly back in Beacon Hills. He stops off in a seedy motel to sleep for the last time before he sees everyone, and once again his dreams are peaceful. He dreams of Allison's face lighting up when he shows up on her doorstep. He dreams of Jackson actually _smiling_ and saying "welcome back, buddy" and giving him a slap on the back as Derek smiles. He dreams of seeing Stiles and Stiles' perfect little mouth turning up at the sides as he breaks out into a grin and he kisses Derek, his lips and his nose and resting at his neck. He dreams of breathing in Stiles' scent and thinking "mine".

He knows that it won't happen. He knows everyone will be angry at him because hey, he's angry at himself. But it's nice to dream. To think everything is going to be okay.

As he gets closer and closer to Beacon Hills, he becomes nervous. Of course people won't be happy to see him. They'll be angry and upset and won't speak to him because he left. Derek ruffles his hair out of frustration and has to pull over on the side of the road because tears well up in his eyes. He bangs his fist on the steering wheel three times and rests his head upon it, closing his eyes and keeping them shut as he mulls over his decision in his head. Why had he decided to come home? In fact, why did he leave in the first place?

For the past three years he has known nothing but running. Running from state to state, hotel to hotel and meaningless sexual encounter after meaningless sexual encounter. So why is he fucking terrified of going home? If he can even call it that anymore. For the first time since Laura died, he's scared. He's _fucking terrified _of what awaits him when he goes back. He genuinely has no idea and the fact that he's not in control is what worries him the most. His Pack have been without an alpha for three years, who knows what's become of them? They've all upped and left for college but it's June so they should all be back for the holidays. He'll go and visit Scott first. Scott'll be angry but he knows he'll forgive him the easiest because his heart is so full of love and protection for the pack he thinks Scott will understand the most. He hopes.

It's when he notices the Beacon Hills sign that he really starts to panic. The familiar buildings take their toll on him and his breathing is heavy and he almost laughs because he's never had a panic attack in his life, he's a werewolf for fuck's sake. He pulls up outside of Scott's house and he just sits there with his engine off for what seems like hours but is in fact only a few minutes. Scott's light is on but the car isn't there so he knows it's just Scott at home as he can only hear one strong heartbeat from within the house.

He takes a big breath and gets out of his car and walks up to the house, jumping slightly as the thunder and lightning begins. There's a storm coming in more ways than one he thinks, and laughs at just how stupidly cliché he sounds.

Before he even knocks the door swings open and a fist swings for his face. He dodges it just in time and there's anger in his eyes as they flash to red and back again.

"What the _fuck _Derek, you leave for three years and don't tell anyone?"

He's being pulled inside the house and slammed up against the door.

"I had my reasons," Derek states simply and Scott sighs in frustration as he takes a few steps back and shakes his head.

"Yeah we get it. We all know why you left, Derek, we all know Isaac died. Hell, we had to find him there on your porch after you left. You know who found him, Derek? Erica. Erica found him and you know how close they were."

Derek wants to cry. He wants to cry and shout and vent his frustrations as he knows he shouldn't have left but he _couldn't fucking help it_.

"I didn't want to..." But he stops as Scott holds up a hand... his claws are out and Derek sucks in a breath as he really doesn't want to fight tonight.

"Don't even fucking bother with the 'I left because I didn't want anyone else to be hurt' bullshit Derek, because it didn't fucking work. You were our _alpha_ and you left us. The Pack would have gone to shit if it hadn't have been for Stiles so you better fucking thank him when you see him."

Hearing someone else say Stiles' name other than himself sends a tsunami of sadness throughout Derek as he knows he has to face him sooner or later.

He remembers before throwing away his cell phone, the endless missed calls and voicemails from that fucking kid that tore his heart in two. He suddenly wants to scream at remembering them, remembering _one in particular._

_"Derek? Derek I fucking hope you're okay because I'm not. You've been AWOL for a week and the pack are going fucking insane and they come to me for advice and I can't deal with this shit Derek as I have classes to get to so you better fucking get your werewolf ass home before I come and find you myself because this is killing me. Is it because I kissed you? I know what you're like Derek once someone shows a bit of compassion you push them away and I am sorry for throwing myself at you I guess I saw the wrong signs but you fucking kissed me back. You remember that Derek because I certainly do. Isaac's funeral was today and there was a place with your name on it. But you didn't show up. Derek fucking Hale you didn't show up for a Pack member's funeral. It was heartbreaking and I wish you were here because it would have been so much easier for me but you weren't here were you? So now I'm sat here with no one around me and I am mourning for someone you should be mourning for too. Here. So come home please, because I miss you."_

It was after that he threw his phone away. He couldn't handle the missed calls and the "where are you" texts and the voicemails. So he threw it away and cut himself off from what he once was. He used fake names to pick up girls in bars because he didn't want to remember Derek Hale, he didn't want to have the past that Derek Hale had, or that constant ache that Derek Hale felt in his heart for a certain kid with a buzz cut and a necessity to talk 24/7. He didn't want to be Derek Hale anymore.

And now he's here and he's angry and sad because he's come home and he knows why but he can't bring himself to say it. He missed his Pack, his home, his family. The one place in the past few years where he's felt grounded.

"Go home," Scott says and Derek snaps out of it and he stares at him with utter exasperation, "it's 10pm my mom will be home soon and I don't want you here for that. I'll come by tomorrow."

Derek doesn't say anything as he goes back out to his car and travels through the familiar streets and back roads until he reaches his house.

Memories of seeing Isaac's dead body on the porch that he's now standing in front of send shivers down his spine and he sucks in a breath so he doesn't cry. The memories are painful and he shakes his head violently to try and rid himself of the visions and he looks at the rest of the house slowly, taking it all in.

It looks no different. None at all and he almost breaks down and cries because once again he's punishing himself by being here. But he can't imagine being anywhere else. This is his home and although it's been partly refurbished (the Pack had made him get the roof fixed and a made him buy a few furniture essentials), it was still the place where his family had burned to death.

But he couldn't imagine himself anywhere else, which is why he's walking in through the doors of the house he's loved and missed. It starts raining and Derek almost laughs at the irony that him being back here and reminiscing all of the bad memories has set off such shit weather, and he sits on the sofa that has gathered dust but he doesn't care. He just sits and stares into nothingness, focussing on the sound of the rain pattering on the windows as he thinks.

It's been 3 years, 2 months and 5 days and nothing prepares him for what happens next. The banging, _slamming _on the door and the shout of "DEREK! GET YOUR WEREWOLF ASS RIGHT HERE NOW BEFORE I BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN AND BREAK YOU" almost makes Derek laugh because that voice has never sounded so angry in its life but he's also terrified for the very same reason. He walks slowly over to his front door and he pauses before opening it, his hands resting on the door handle as he's about to open and confront the face he's wanted to see but _couldn't _for the past three years. He's terrified and happy and scared but relieved as he opens the door and sees Stiles standing there.

Absolutely drenched. His blue v-neck tshirt is clinging to his...holy shit are they _abs_? As the rain pours down and drips off him, off his nose, glistening in his hair which has grown out enough so Stiles spikes it up at the front. Derek wants to punch something as he hasn't been here to see Stiles grow up from a weedy teenager into this lean college kid. He hasn't been here to lick those abs and nip at those lips and nuzzle that neck. He wants to punch himself but he can't as he's stood still at the sight before him.

"Well look who has the nerve," Stiles begins and he doesn't move. He's stood out in the rain, in the freezing cold but he doesn't move. Which means he's definitely angry as Stiles _always moves_.

He goes to speak but he's cut off by a very angry Stiles. "Don't you fucking _dare. _I know what you said to Scott, he called me. Don't you dare tell me you did it for _our _benefit, leaving so we couldn't get hurt anymore. Do you know for how long I thought you'd left because of that night in the kitchen? I'm still not sure why you left Derek because it was an utterly selfish thing to do. You left us and you left me and I fucking hate you for it. Did you even consider your actions, Derek, did you? You are fucking lucky that Scott and Boyd teamed up with Chris Argent to kill that motherfucker Gerard otherwise we all would have been dead, not just Isaac and it would have been _your fault_."

The rain is coming down hard and fast now but instead of inviting Stiles inside; Derek shuts the door behind him and joins Stiles out in the rain. He reaches out tentatively. He just wants to _hold Stiles _and tell him that he's sorry and that he's a fucking idiot and he knows he shouldn't have left but he didn't know what else to do. He wants to break down and cry and scream at Stiles and tell him that the hardest part was leaving him.

But he doesn't. He just stands there and lets Stiles shout at him like the fucking masochist he is.

"Do you know how long we were looking for you? Just under a year. We thought you were _dead _Derek, we thought Gerard had captured you and..." Stiles brings a hand up to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose and he sighs outwardly. "And now you fucking show up back here."

"You weren't the reason I left Stiles, you have to know that." His voice is hoarse and quiet but even over the rain he knows Stiles can hear him. Stiles looks up and he laughs once.

"Doesn't excuse the fact you left. Doesn't excuse the fact that we all felt like shit for months on end. Doesn't excuse the fact that _the kiss clearly meant nothing to you."_

Oh, those words hurt. They hurt enough that now Derek is shouting back. His eyes flash red but Stiles doesn't even move or cower away. "How fucking dare you!" he growls in response, looking Stiles square in the eyes with his own sad ones, "how fucking dare you say that. Out of all the things I regret? Leaving _us _is the one thing I regret most. The fact I thought about you every fucking day for the past three years has been more of a punishment to me than you thinking I'd left because of you, so don't you fucking dare say it meant nothing to me."

Stiles throws his hands up in the air and moves towards Derek so they're practically nose-to-nose.

"You have no idea what it felt like when you were gone Derek because for your own stupid selfish reasons you decided to leave us when we needed you most."

And then Stiles' lips are on his, and they're kissing. It's wet and sloppy and _desperate _and the rain is still coming down hard on them both as they're tangled up in each other. Stiles pushes Derek with such force that if he were not a werewolf, they'd both be on the floor and covered in mud. But Derek is leaning on the door and opening it with his hands as he's pushed back into the house with a force that he didn't think Stiles could manage. They're out of the rain now and into the house but he can still feel Stiles shivering under his touch as he pushes Stiles up against the wall and breaks the kiss so he can breathe.

"I hate you," Stiles spills from his mouth and Derek laughs and nips at Stiles' neck which causes Stiles to moan softly.

"No you don't," he replies and Stiles growls, _he fucking growls_ and this turns Derek on so much he goes back up to kiss those lips he's missed the most but Stiles pushes him away.

"You can't come back here and get up all in this straight away Derek, fuck you."

"You kissed me!" Derek replied, taking a few steps back from Stiles and looking at him with utter bewilderment.

"Oh yeah?" Stiles says, shrugging his shoulders, "what are you gonna do, leave again?"

That hurt. That fucking hurt and Derek is angry again but he doesn't say anything. He just watches Stiles breathe in and out and somehow this calms him, regardless of the words piercing his heart.

"You left," Stiles says after what seems like days of staring at each other, "you left and you didn't answer your phone or the howls of your Pack. You left, Derek. You left me."

"Stiles, I..."

"No, no 'Stiles' anything. We all graduated and went to college and got on with our lives without you in them and regardless of how alone you felt Derek, you _weren't_."

"I know that," Derek says simply and he looks away from Stiles because he doesn't think he can handle the pain anymore.

"So why didn't you come back?"

"I guess..." he begins, and he looks at Stiles finally and almost regrets it because Stiles' eyes are a mixture of sadness and anger and it's killing him inside, "I guess I'd forgotten how _not _to run anymore."

Stiles thinks this over for a second and laughs. "Sorry that's not an excuse. It's not hard to pick up the phone and go 'hey Stiles! Don't worry, I'm alive and all, just chilling here in Alaska or wherever the fuck I am, I'll be home soon,' is it?"

"Stiles you know that Isaac's body was left there as a message to me, I...I didn't want to risk it just in case you all got hurt."

"You're more of a martyr than I am!" Stiles exclaims and he grunts in frustration, "we needed you Derek and you weren't here. The Pack started coming to me for advice and do you know how much pressure that puts on a human going through their finals? The answer is a lot, Derek, a lot. It's a good fucking job I passed them to get into Berkeley or it would have been your fault that I'd be jobless and unhappy in the future."

Derek doesn't say anything; he just stares at Stiles who's drying off now, the v-neck still clinging so tightly to that body he so badly wants to touch. Stiles runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"We never gave up on you, you idiot. Not even after months of knowing you'd gone. I still did my research, Scott still asked other Packs. It was like you'd disappeared of the face of the Earth. We accepted that you'd gone for good. And then you have the _fucking nerve to show your face back here_, I..."

It's Derek's turn to scramble forward and press his lips to Stiles' once more. He has to shut the kid up; he can't handle seeing him in pain any longer. Soon enough Stiles responds and they're both scrambling for each other's belts and moving over to the sofa, Derek pushing Stiles down so he's on top of the teenager who is _fuck _nearly 20 it's almost terrifying to think just how long he's been away.

"I hate you," Stiles repeats over and over again and Derek says nothing, groaning as Stiles grabs a hold of his cock. The intimacy and _anger _of the situation is what makes Derek so emotional. He wants to cry and scream and laugh at the same time that this is actually happening. He's dreamed of touching Stiles, of Stiles touching him for months and months and none of his stupid one night stands could ever live up to the feel of Stiles underneath him, the heat radiating off the body under his and the whimpers of pleasure coming from those perfect lips as Derek's hand finally reaches and almost rips off Stiles' boxer briefs.

They stop kissing for just a second as they rid themselves of their clothes and once they're both finally naked Derek just has to stop and stare down at Stiles for a second and sigh in awe.

"Lydia made me go to the gym when you left. She thought that looking more like an alpha would actually make me feel like one and..."

"What do you mean?" Derek asks and he reaches down to trace his calloused fingertips over Stiles' stomach, which warrants a gasp from the boy and turns him on even more than possibly thought.

"Well the Pack needed an alpha and considering you'd fucking gone AWOL and I was practically second in command..."

"They chose you?"

"Well yeah. Someone had to hold the fort whilst Gerard was out there murdering every wolf in sight."

Derek sighs and leans down to capture Stiles' lips with his own and Stiles kisses back, forcefully and angrily as his grip around Derek tightens and he begins moving his hand up and down and Derek gasps in pleasure like he's never felt before.

He mimics Stiles' moves on Stiles and soon the boy is gasping and arching his back underneath him and it's the hottest thing he's ever fucking seen in his life.

They're rubbing up against each other, hips grinding against hips at this feeble and desperate attempt to regain some affection and emotion between each other and it seems to be working pretty well as Stiles is the first to come, arching his back and coming over his chest and Derek's. The sight of Stiles' eyes fluttering from pleasure, and his back arching to meet Derek's hand is what causes Derek to go over the edge, wave after wave of unimaginable pleasure ripping through him but somehow mending the heart that had been torn all those years ago when he said goodbye to Beacon Hills for the second time in his life.

Hot and sticky but not caring one bit, he collapses on Stiles and Stiles runs his hands up and down Derek's back, along his spine and sending shivers and tingles throughout Derek as his gasps come out broken and short.

"I fucking _missed you so much _Derek you have no idea." Stiles whispers and he's utterly broken.

"I have a pretty good idea," Derek replies and he nuzzles his face into Stiles' neck, who moves his head to the side so Derek has a better position. He kisses the spot where Stiles' pulse point is strongest and then stays there for a while, feeling Stiles' heartbeat decrease and rest at a normal pace under his lips as each pump of blood becomes slower under Stiles' skin.

"I still hate you," Stiles remarks after a while. Derek laughs into Stiles' skin and feels Stiles shiver underneath him.

"I know," he replies and finally moves away from the boy, to the kitchen where he hopes there's still a towel in the cupboard so he can clean himself and Stiles off. After doing so, he grabs the comforter from the cupboard and drapes it over himself and Stiles who is now half asleep. Derek repositions them on the sofa so he is behind the teenager and his chest is pressed tightly against Stiles' back, wrapping an arm around Stiles as he drifts off into a peaceful sleep, thankful the teenager hasn't moved from his grasp.

* * *

He's awoken by a punch to the face.

"Ouch, what the fuck?!" He opens his eyes and notices he's not alone in the room. Stiles is wearing one of his shirts and his boxers from the night before, and he throws a shirt to Derek so Derek can get dressed as _holy shit the entire Pack are in the room_.

"You have a lot of explaining to do Derek," Allison pipes up as she takes a hold of Scott's hand, bringing them both up to her lips and kissing Scott's as he seems to be still seething with rage.

"But first, go and eat the pancakes out in the kitchen I made you because if you don't I will kill you," Stiles says and Derek wants to laugh but the air is tense so he gets up, wrapping the comforter around his waist like a towel and pulling on his shirt and jeans, then dropping the comforter as the Pack hadn't bothered to move out of the room for some privacy. He walks out into the kitchen alone and he sees the blueberry pancakes.

And he breaks down. In years since Laura's death, he's not cried once. And blueberry pancakes set him off. He knows now. He knows this is home and he wants to scream and shout because he left for no fucking reason at all and he hates himself. That box in the back corner of his mind breaks open and suddenly he's feeling every emotion he's locked away for the past three years as his eyes rest upon the kitchen table, the sight of a normal breakfast being too much for him as tears spill from his eyes.

"I'll stay," he whispers to no one in particular but suddenly there are arms around his waist and he's being pulled back into an embrace from Stiles.

"You better," Stiles whispers back and he kisses the nape of Derek's neck as Derek brings a hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes, "now eat those pancakes. You've got a lot of explaining to do and you need to eat."

It's been 3 years, 2 months and 6 days, and Derek is finally home.


End file.
